The Lost Child
by BeadleJuice
Summary: Lucifer hears rumors of an unusually powerful witch in London, England that could be Heaven's Lost Child and he is determined to return his youngest sister to his side. Harry had finally gotten her happily ever after, why did Fate, God, and the devil have to come along and ruin it? The devil, Lucifer, says she's an angel, but is she really? Harry doesn't think so. Fem!Harry
1. Prologue: Found

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Supernatural. I also don't own this chapter; it's a sort-of challenge posted by evil-step-sister under the same name.**

**A/N: I have three things that should be made clear now. First, this story is Fem!Harry (if you're new to the fandom, that means Harry will be a girl for this story), so if you have a problem with that, you are free to push that little button on the top of your screen with an arrow to the left on it. Also note that this story occurs Post-Harry Potter (the year is 2009 so Harry is 29) and mid-season 5 of Supernatural. My story will be set in the Supernatural verse but won't be following episodes as Harry will have little to do with the Winchester brothers for a while. Still, I suggest catching up to at least that point (it would probably be best to finish season 5) otherwise you will likely find spoilers. Last, I AM NOT PAIRING HARRY WITH ANYONE FROM SUPERNATURAL. This is a ****_family_**** story, not a romance.**

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_"The things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. If not always in the way we expect." —JK Rowling through Luna Lovegood_

The Lost Child

Found

"We have a problem."

The Winchester brothers jumped at the sound of their friend's voice, turning to him with frowns. "Don't _do_ that, Cas," Dean grumbled, putting his burger down. He and Sam had just been enjoying their lunch at Bobby's house, taking a short break from hunting. They'd look for another case in a few days, but right now they felt they deserved a bit of a break. Bobby himself had gone off to meet some contact or other because he was running low on some weird-ass ingredient or another.

"What's the problem, Cas?" Sam asked, looking expectantly at the angel.

"I believe Lucifer has located a being of immense power and means to seduce her to his cause."

"You don't mean the Master of Death guy?" Dean asked, face paling a bit. That had been their one ace in the hole; sure, they didn't actually _have_ him, but Lucifer didn't either. "Didn't Death say he wouldn't be able to find him?"

"He said _her,_ Dean," Sam pointed out.

"Have you heard anything about him though?" Dean prompted.

"There is still no word on him."

"Wow, Death wasn't kidding when he said the guy was hard to find," Sam noted. "So who is this being of immense power?"

Here, Castiel paused, an odd look forming on his face. "She is not spoken of often, but is most commonly referred to as The Lost Child."

The younger Winchester's attention was truly caught now. "Lost child?" he asked curiously. "I've never heard of it."

"You wouldn't have. It generally is not a story known to those not of heaven."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "So what? It's some kinda angel bedtime story?"

"No," Cas answered with a bland look. "It is a point of shame for us and therefore rarely discussed even amongst ourselves."

"So why tell us about it now?"

"As I said before, I believe Lucifer has located her. It could be disastrous should she become an ally of the armies of Hell."

"What _is_ this kid exactly?" Sam asked, brow furrowing as a frown formed.

"An angel. Or rather, she was."

"Was? So she fell?"

"Not exactly."

"Alright, this is getting us nowhere," Dean interrupted with a slight scowl. "First off, how about you explain who this kid is. Start at the beginning."

"Very well. Be warned, it is quite a long story and I ask that you do not interrupt." The angel looked from one brother to another, waiting on them to nod. When they did, he continued, "The Lost Child was an angel, the youngest of us. Angels of similar ages were usually gathered together and assigned to the same garrison. My garrison was not the last created, but, amongst the angels, I am considered fairly young. After the last of the garrisons were created, we all thought our family was completed. However, decades later, Father created one last angel before growing distant from us. Even now, no one knows why He created her.

"Generally, the oldest angels are considered the most powerful, but this fledgling… she was different. Special. Powerful. She quickly grew in strength, surpassing the younger garrisons. In doing so, she caught the attention of our elder brothers and sisters, even the archangels. When her potential became obvious, Lucifer himself showed particular interest and took her under his wing, so to speak. Lucifer trained her, taught her, and protected her fiercely.

"This attention from the angel considered the most beautiful of us all gained the Child jealousy and ire from some of our family. In an act of shameful spite, a small number of angels attacked the Child when she was alone. They ripped her wings from her back, her grace from her soul, and cast her down to Earth. The group was punished dearly for their actions; not only by Lucifer, but by the other archangels and elder angels as well. My father made his great displeasure of their act known, but otherwise did not interfere.

"As you know, fallen angels are reborn as humans, and, many years later, after much desperate searching, the Child's soul was found in the body of a young human girl. Unfortunately, her grace had yet to be located and it was still many more years before it would be. So the Child remained in the village and grew as a human. However, her strength was much greater than that of Anna's and signs of her angelic past became evident from a much earlier age. She showed knowledge that no girl her age should have and events the humans could not explain happened around her in times of emotional distress.

"The village grew to fear and despise her. They regularly mistreated her; starving her, beating her, and locking her in a cage for her perceived abnormalities. During this time, few angels had found suitable vessels and so we were forced to observe this abuse with no way of interfering. Lucifer was one who refused to leave the child's side, and, as the years passed, his anger and hatred of this human village grew greater. When at last the child's grace was found, many of our family were overjoyed to know our youngest sister would soon be returned to us.

"They went to collect her in order to bring her to her grace, but the lack of a vessel limited their ability to communicate with the girl. You are aware of the effects felt in the presence of an angel's true form. These effects were felt by some of the village and, of course, they immediately laid blame upon the Child. In a fit of frightened rage, the humans beat the girl mercilessly. Due to our Father's orders that no angel shall harm any human, the angels, including Lucifer, could only watch helplessly as our younger sister was beaten to death. And, as her soul passed from its human body, it disappeared from us completely. It wasn't long after this event that Lucifer defied our Father by refusing to love the humans, rebelled, and was cast into Hell by Michael."

The Winchesters were silent for a long moment, trying to absorb this new information and compare it to the knowledge they already had. In a quiet voice, Sam muttered, "I never thought I'd say it, but I feel sorry for the devil." Shaking his head to dispel the emotion and the bad thoughts that followed, he spoke up, "If she died as a human so long ago, why do you think she's alive now?"

"I was searching out demons, hoping to find some indications of how far Lucifer has gotten in his search for the Master of Death. One of them had heard reports of a young woman in London, England that showed abnormal abilities and referred to her as the Child. The wizards in the area have assumed—"

"Wait, _wizards_?" Dean asked. "Don't you mean _witches_?"

"No, most of the ones involved were male, so they would be called wizards."

"He means the wand waving, broomstick riding, Merlin type of wizard," Sam clarified for his brother. "No demon deals involved."

"You're kidding, right? Those actually _exist_?"

"Yeah, I read about them in one of Bobby's books a few years ago. Surprised me too."

"And you didn't think to tell me about them?"

"Well, we've never come across them before so it never came up." Sam shrugged. "Besides, there aren't very many in the US anyway."

"As I was saying," Castiel interrupted, deciding it was time he continue, "the wizards have assumed the abilities she has shown indicate that she is one of them and have trained her to harness her energy like magic. However, even for a witch, her strength and knowledge are far above something usually found in one of their kind. Enough so to have gained the attention of Lucifer. We must find this woman before Lucifer does and determine if she is indeed The Lost Child."

"Well, I've never been to England before," Sam announced, looking a bit excited at the prospect of travel.

"No way, I am _not_ getting on a plane," Dean growled.

"Very well, I can simply take us there," Castiel responded, reaching a hand out toward the man's forehead.

"No way! The last time you used your angel magic thing on me, I couldn't poop for a week!"

"It's one way or the other, Dean," Sam pointed out.

The elder Winchester looked from the angel to his brother and back then groaned. "Find us some tickets, Sam. I'll go call Bobby."


	2. Captured

"_Happily Ever After isn't really the end..." —K.C. Randall_

The Lost Child

Captured

Harry yawned, free hand coming to cover her mouth while her wand paused in the air. She looked at the ornament she had been making and cursed silently, it was now a puke-green color and twisted into some weird combination of a spiral and a pentagon. "Someone's getting tired." The woman frowned and turned to look at her husband whose brown eyes were dancing with mirth.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, George."

"Nope, you're exhausted, I can tell," he informed her with a grin. He pointed his wand at her deformed little accident and it turned into an emerald green Christmas tree complete with little twinkling lights.

Harry pouted, eying the ornament with mild jealousy. "You always were better at Charms," she grumbled. That wasn't to say she wasn't any good at Charms, because the woman was much better than average. The Weasley simply had a talent for the art that few could match.

With a grin, George kissed her temple. "Go check on the kids and go to bed, I can finish up down here."

"But—"

"Go on, you're tired. Besides, I _am_ better at Charms," he flashed a cocky grin.

Harry rolled her eyes again and huffed at him before pushing herself up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Good night, I love you."

"Love you too, Harry. I'll be up in a minute."

She smiled at him before turning and starting up the stairs. She pushed the door of the first room open quietly and stepped inside. James was fast asleep, sprawled out on his back. With a smile, she pulled her eldest son's blanket up around his shoulders and kissed his forehead. Her sweet baby boy, he would be starting Hogwarts next year. She ran her fingers through his black hair; he wouldn't let her do that anymore when he was awake. With a slight smile, she pulled away from him and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Then she went across the hall to her next son's room. Fred was a quieter sleeper, curled up in a ball. He was two years younger than his brother, and, ironically, far less mischievous. She smiled at her son and gave him a kiss on the forehead as well. She brushed his red hair out of his face and watched him sleep for a moment before leaving quietly and walking next door to the girls' room.

Lily and Emily were only two years old and as identical as Fred and George had been. Harry made sure they were both tucked in nice and tight before giving each a kiss and heading to her own room. Once in her room, she emptied her pockets which had accumulated a few small, miscellaneous papers and trinkets throughout the day. Then she pulled her wand out of the holster on her arm and settled it next to the little mess before sitting on the bed and unlacing her boots.

Feet now freed from their restraints, she walked over to the closet, wiggling her toes as she did. She changed sedately, tossing her dirty robes over her shoulder into the hamper and then pulling on her pajamas. The ones she picked were her favorite ones to wear in the winter. They were nice and warm, made of cotton or fleece or something. The pants were red with golden snitches embroidered all over them. The shirt was red as well and long sleeved with a lion emblazoned on the front over the words 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'. George had given them to her.

She heard the door open as she was walking back toward the bed. "That was fast," she greeted, smile in her voice. Harry waited for the expected response but didn't hear one. She turned around, slightly worried. "Is everything—" The brunette cut off abruptly at the sight of her. George didn't look different at all, yet, at the same time, he looked _completely_ different. The expression on his face was bored, uncaring, so far from anything she'd ever seen on her husband's face. But even _that_ was something that could probably be written off in some way or another. The real difference, the thing that really concerned her, was the _other_ face. It was black and disgusting and frightening… demonic. Her hand reached back and she grabbed her wand, pointing it at him. "Who the hell are you and what did you do to my husband?" she snarled.

The not-George's eyebrows rose. "I see someone's got sharp eyes." A weird smirk formed on his face, completely unlike the normal, playful one he wore all the time. This one had a dangerous edge to it that Harry found she didn't like.

She jabbed her wand at the not-George, though it killed her to do it. The only thing that consoled her was the fact that a stunning spell wouldn't cause too much damage. Right?

But even that didn't matter as she was unable to finish casting the spell because the imposter lifted his hand and some unseen force, a strange spell, hit her around the chest and pinned her to the wall. Her wand fell out of her hand, hitting the floor with a soft _clack_. The spell held her against the wall, paralyzed. She couldn't even breathe. She fought against it, but she couldn't break the spell. "You know, I figured you would be harder to catch. Guess I was wrong."

Harry could feel her consciousness fading due to asphyxiation. By the time the pressure was relieved and she hit the ground, blackness had taken over her mind.

**~ Lucifer ~**

Lucifer looked over at his servant when she appeared in front of him, unconscious woman over one shoulder. Apparently, _she_ was now a _he_ as she had changed 'meat suits' and was now wearing a redheaded man with brown eyes and a face covered in freckles. He was fairly tall with a strong build and dressed in green wizard's robes. "What happened?" he asked, not really caring for the answer as he held out his hands to take the woman from the demon.

Without protest, Meg handed her over. "The house was warded," she— he? No, she; the demon had been a woman before death— answered in a disgruntled tone. "Really well too. Not enough to keep a demon out, but enough to completely _destroy_ my meat suit. So I improvised; it made capturing her a lot easier." She spun around to look at the mirror that some human had put up on the wall some time previous. "Although I have to say, I look good." She smiled at the reflection, obviously enjoying her new appearance. "I think I'll keep it, for now anyway."

Meg turned around to see what the fallen angel was doing and found that he'd settled the unconscious woman into a chair and was looking intensely at her. "Did anything unusual happen?" he inquired.

"Well, she reacted to me immediately, like she knew what I was, but there _are_ some witches and wizards capable of seeing through a demon's disguise." She shrugged. "So how exactly does this work? I mean, is there a spell or something you have to do?"

"No, I used the spell to locate her, but there is the possibility that this is simply the one who would be her proper vessel. Magic can be fickle like that."

"So…?" Meg watched him closely, wondering what he was going to do.

Lucifer seemed irritated by her curiosity. "So I'm going to take a look at her soul." He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed one right _through_ her abdomen. Meg watched the place glow with surprise and interest. Because of this, she didn't notice the mildly pained look on her master's face as the woman shrieked in agony. When he removed his arm, the woman shuddered before stilling, head staying lulled to the side.

Meg looked up at Lucifer to find his face was still and thoughtful. "So?" she prompted, curious.

"It's definitely her," he responded before picking the woman up and carrying her off. The demon tried to follow behind, but was forced to stop when the fallen angel walked into a room that he had sealed with a devil's trap some time previously.

Lucifer carried his little sister and laid her down on the bed in the room he'd fixed for her. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and placed a hand on her head, frowning at how pinched her face looked. A little touch of grace channeled into her made sure any possible damage Meg had caused was healed and the woman would sleep for several hours. He smiled when her expression eased into the peaceful oblivion that ought to be expressed during sleep. Then he left. With his sister now delivered safely to him, he could concentrate all his efforts on locating the Master of Death so he could finally get the apocalypse properly started.

**~ Home ~**

Fred was the first to wake up the next morning, but he usually was. He climbed out of bed and changed into his day clothes, frowning as he did so. Most mornings he could smell breakfast cooking when he got up. Continuing to frown, the boy left his room and jogged down the stairs. He checked the kitchen first, but his mother wasn't there. Everything was so quiet, he couldn't hear anything moving anywhere downstairs.

His next stop was the living room. He could see where his parents had been decorating for Christmas, but hadn't finished. That was weird, his mom didn't like going to bed with a job unfinished. He looked around the room for some indication as to why they hadn't finished when he saw it: his father's wand poking out of the plant in the corner like it had been thrown there.

Fred ran over to it and pulled the wand out; his father would never leave it! "Kreecher!" he called, seeing the house elf slumped against the wall beside the fireplace in just such a place that the boy hadn't been able to see him before. "Kreecher, what happened?"

When the house elf didn't answer, the little ginger grew really nervous so he ran over and shook the creature's shoulder. A house elf couldn't ignore one of its masters!

He screamed when Kreecher just fell to the ground, unmoving. "MUM!" he shrieked, running away, toward the stairs and up them. "DAD!" James stepped out into the hall, jumping out of the way when his brother didn't slow.

"Who lit a fire in your trousers?" the elder boy grumbled. Fred didn't answer, rather he threw open the door to his parents' room. "_Seriously_, Fred, why are you running around screaming?"

He came to a stop behind his brother who spun around, looking up at him with panicked, teary eyes. "Mum and Dad aren't here!"

"Duh, they're probably downstairs, stupid," the elder brother rolled his eyes and gave his brother's shoulder a gentle shove. "No need to panic. Hey, is that Dad's wand?"

"Yes!" the boy exclaimed. "I found it sticking out of a plant downstairs!"

"What? Why would Dad's wand— hey, is that… that's Mum's wand!" he exclaimed suddenly, jogging into the room to pick up the slender piece of wood laying discarded on the floor. He walked back over to his brother, eyes showing how shocked and frightened he was. No witch or wizard would go anywhere without their wand!

"Fwed?" The boys looked over to see Lily and Emily standing in the door to their room, rubbing their eyes and holding their stuffed bunnies in their other hands. "Jay?"

The brothers shared a glance before nodding, knowing what they needed to do. James picked up one girl and Fred the other. "Wanna go see Uncle Ron and Aunt 'Mione?"

"Yeah!" the girls exclaimed, blinking rapidly to wake themselves up faster. They liked playing with Rose, who was a year older, and Hugo, who was their age.

"Let's go then!" Doing their best to hide their fearful concern from the girls, the boys hurried down the stairs before Flooing to their aunt and uncle's. Ron and Hermione would know what to do.

Right?


	3. Mental

"_A cage stokes our emotions and imaginations, regardless of whether you are inside looking out, or outside looking in." —Michael Makai_

The Lost Child

Mental

Waking up slowly was something Harry hadn't been able to do in years. Auror training does that to a person. But, for some reason, she was waking up slowly. Not that she minded, that foggy state between sleep and wakefulness was something she hadn't realized she missed.

So it was that, without any concerns, she rolled over toward her husband and grumbled something indiscernible to him. She jerked away when her face hit the other side of the pillow and it was _cold_. Blinking blearily, she looked down at the place where George usually slept only to find he wasn't there.

The reason he wasn't there was because _this wasn't her bed_. And the reason it wasn't her bed? _This wasn't her room_.

Spinning around, eyes searching the room for any sign of where she was. There wasn't any. That was the exact moment that Harry was fully awakened and she remembered what happened the night before. The brunette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming her heartbeat. She would be no good to anyone if she started hyperventilating. And she was an Auror dammit! Aurors did _not_ panic in situations like this. _Especially_ not the head of the entire department.

Green eyes opened, looking around the room like the experienced professional she was. The walls were an ugly yellow that may have once been white, perhaps beige, that was dirty and chipping in places. Obviously no one had lived in this room in a long time. At least not someone that cared about hygiene and cleanliness. Her eyes skipped over to the door that was cracked and splattered with an unidentified splash of red and green.

That was when she noticed an odd symbol on the floor. She called it a symbol because it wasn't random like everything else, but organized. Frowning, she ghosted over to the symbol and looked at it, though she could only see half. It looked to be drawn in red paint and the side she could see looked like two perfect half circles, one inside the other, with triangles inside them and a few squiggly lines in certain places.

Harry frowned at a thought in the back of her mind that she couldn't quite pin down. Sighing quietly, she stood up and strode to the other side of the room where the only window was. The window itself was a mess, just like the rest of the room, but it showed some signs of repair. Some of the panes were new and clear, as if they'd been replaced, while others were dungy and a little cracked. Underneath the window another of those symbols were drawn. Being able to see its full shape, she could now see that it wasn't triangles inside the circles, but a pentagram.

It was a Devil's Trap.

Harry had encountered the symbol before. Demons _were_ real after all, they just weren't very common. Or, rather, they didn't use to be. Lately there had been an influx of demon activity that no one could explain. Because of that, the brunette had used the symbol more times than most of her predecessors. It was one of the reasons reporters still followed her around.

But that was a story for another time. Right now, she needed to figure out why there would be Devil's Trap at a place demons had brought her to. Or had the demons been intercepted? Had a team of Aurors caught them and brought her to a safe house? Well, if they did, they weren't British. She knew every safe house in the united Kingdom and this wasn't one of them.

It seemed her questions were going to be answered as she could hear footsteps in the hall. Harry straightened quickly, reaching for her wand only to remember that she'd dropped it back at the house. She cursed silently before breathing deeply to center herself. Wandless magic was difficult, but she could use it. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as the doorknob turned and the door pushed open with a creak.

Harry didn't know what she was expecting of the person coming to her room, but the man standing there certainly wasn't whatever it was. He wasn't very tall and had neat light brown hair and a bit of stubble. He had on a pair of jeans, a green t-shirt, and a blue button up that he left open. All in all, to the most people, he looked like a perfectly normal person.

Well, a perfectly normal person that had been on the wrong end of a nasty curse. The skin on his face looked almost as if it had been scraped off in several places.

Of course, Harry wasn't most people, so she could see his second-face. He wasn't a demon though; his second face didn't look demonic in the slightest. Actually, it was bright, beautiful, and so annoyingly familiar. Every fiber of her being was _insisting_ that she knew this man, but she had no idea who he was. It was a strange, contradictory feeling that made Harry uneasy.

"Ah," the man greeted, a small smile gracing his lips, "I see you're finally awake, Adriel."

Harry blinked. "Adriel?" she asked with a frown. "Who the hell is Adriel?"

The man chuckled. "You are," he informed her, not a single ounce of doubt in his tone.

It was a naïve thought, but the woman really hoped that she had simply been mistaken for this Adriel person and that the man would just let her go home and George would be all right…

She had exactly zero confidence in that hope. She wasn't thirteen any more. She didn't have to be told that her hopes were foolish, she was very much aware of that thank-you-very-much. She still hoped though.

"No, I'm _Harry_. And you are?"

The man smiled at her, amused. It was obvious that he refused to take her word for it, that he truly believed beyond a doubt that she was this Adriel. "Your name is Adriel. No matter what those pitiful humans call you, that will always be your name."

"I would thank you not to insult us 'pitiful humans' if you don't mind."

The man chuckled. "Adriel, Adriel, Adriel." He shook his head, still smiling. "You're not a human, Adriel. You're an angel."

"An… angel…" Harry echoed slowly, officially deciding that this man was off his rocker.

Great. Just great. She'd been abducted by a supernatural lunatic that could somehow manipulate demons. Just what she always wanted.

Geez, why couldn't she catch a break?

"Yes." He smiled. "You are Adriel, Heaven's youngest angel, and I am your elder brother Lucifer."

Angel… brother… Lucifer.

Angel... Lucifer...

Angel. Lucifer…

Angel Lucifer…

_The angel Lucifer._

Oh bloody hell. Bloody fucking hell.

Why couldn't she catch a break? Why? Why? Why?

The bloody fucking devil was mental and thought she was an angel.

Worse, he had abducted her and she didn't know how to get home.

Dammit all to hell. Why did she always have to get the crazy ones? Why? Did God have it out for her or something?

Provided God was actually real of course.

Wait, if angels were real (and they obviously were because Lucifer could be nothing else), then God was real too right?

So God hates her. Great. The most powerful being in all of creation hates her. _Perfect_.

_Father doesn't hate me, he loves me_, some weird voice in the back of her head assured her.

_Where did _that_ come from? _Harry had heard the strange voice many times throughout her life and every time she pondered about whether or not that meant she was crazy. She really hoped not. She dealt with enough crazy people on a daily basis, she didn't need to go _becoming_ one.

The brunette could feel panic welling in her stomach and chest but quickly squelched it. Panic was never helpful in a situation like this.

As if unaware of the inner turmoil going on inside the woman's mind, the devil asked, "Did you sleep well, Adriel?"

As if that one question was the final pebble that broke the scale, something inside Harry just snapped. "Did I _sleep_ well?" she shrieked. "_That's_ the question you ask me? Of all the God damn things you could possibly ask, why the bloody hell would you ask that one? Honestly! You break into my bloody house, have one of your fucking henchmen possess my husband, and then try to suffocate me and the first damned thing you ask me if I _slept_ well? Obviously there are some screws loose in your God damned head if you actually think for one bloody second that _that_ was the appropriate thing to ask!"

The devil blinked at her as if he hadn't expected such an outburst. Considering the fact that he was bloody _mental_, he probably didn't. There was a long pause during which the bastard went from startled to confused to curious. "What _should_ I have asked then?"

"NOTHING!" she screamed. "You shouldn't ask a bloody thing! I'm the one with all the questions and you're going to damn well answer them!"

"Okay."

Okay? _Okay?_ Why wouldn't he yell back? There was no satisfaction in screaming when the person you were screaming at just took it calmly and caved!

Harry took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. She needed to calm down, anger was getting her nowhere. "Where am I?"

"Detroit, Michigan."

"The United States?" she echoed, surprised.

"Yes." The devil leaned casually against the wall behind him.

"What happened to my husband?"

A strange, annoyed look appeared on his face. "The redhead?"

"Yes. The redhead. What happened to him?"

"Last I checked, he was still being possessed."

Harry's stomach dropped and her heart clenched. "Let him go," she growled.

"Why would I do that?"

"There's no reason for you to have him," she informed him. "You're after me, right? Well leave him out of it."

"Making demands now, are we?" Lucifer actually had the gall to look amused. "I don't think you're in any position to be making demands."

"Let. Him. Go."

"Or what?"

"I'll leave. I can do it too."

"Then I'll kill him." The thought actually caused her pain. Lucifer's expression softened a bit. "I just have to make sure you know who's in charge here. I'll consider your _request_, but I'm not making any promises." He pointed to the ground. "Don't leave this room."

Harry pursed her lips, feeling trapped. She couldn't fight back, couldn't run away, not without putting everyone she knew and loved in danger. She sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands. What should he do?

What _could_ she do?

**~ Lucifer ~**

The archangel stood silently outside his sister's door. That hadn't gone like he'd hoped it would. He had intended to be calm and caring, re-establish the bond they'd shared before the incident. He had wanted to explain things to her, let her understand who he was and what had happened. Tell her he was looking for her grace.

But then she'd gotten angry. He didn't understand why, but maybe being a human for so long had rubbed off on her. He'd never really understood humans nor did he want to understand them. Lucifer sighed, the image of her pained expression appearing in his mind. He hadn't expected her to react in such about the death of a human. Sure, she'd always liked the humans, but to react that way over the concept of one's death? It was unexpected…

Lucifer shoved his confusion away and turned to walk down the hall. It seemed mending fences with Adriel was going to be more difficult than he thought. Especially since he was pretty sure she was thinking of him as an enemy. Maybe accepting her request would fix that? He would have to talk to Meg.


	4. Home

**A/N: I'm still a little iffy about this chapter, but I'm going to post it anyway.**

_"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." - Robert Frost_

The Lost Child

Home

The devil didn't come back to her room until the next morning. Harry spent the time trying to come up with a plan to get both George and herself home safely. She spent a significant amount of time worrying over her children, wondering if they had the good sense to Floo over to Hermione and Ron's or Molly and Arthur's or any of their aunts' and uncles' houses.

When Lucifer did return to her room, he came with a friendly smile. Harry glared at him so fiercely that if looks could kill he would be dead a hundred times over. The smile faltered a bit but remained in place. "I came to tell you that your request has been processed."

"And?" she growled.

"And your little boy toy is now home safe and sound, Adriel."

"1, don't call him that. 2, my _name_ is _Harry_. 3, why should I take your word for it?"

The angel sighed and walked toward her, holding out what looked to be a newspaper. The witch eyed it uneasily. Printed in bold across the top were the words **Daily Prophet**. "I thought you might need a little reassurance, so I sent one of the demons to fetch this."

Harry took the paper and looked at it. Staring back at her was the headline: _Head Auror Weasley Still Missing; Auror Department in an Uproar_. She looked down at the article, skimming over it to get the gist of the investigation into her 'disappearance.' She paused in the middle to read,

_George Weasley (31), husband of Head Auror Harry Weasley, was found in the lobby of St. Mungo's this morning, unconscious but otherwise fine. Healer Lavender Brown states, "We have yet to find any medical problems causing Mr. Weasley's unconsciousness. As far as we can tell, it is merely the trauma of whatever happened keeping him from waking up. That is all I have to say, thanks." This occurrence has brought new hope to the wizarding community that our savior is still alive though in what condition no one knows except perhaps Mr. Weasley. Aurors are at standby, hoping to question Mr. Weasley when he awakens._

Harry skimmed through the rest, seeing that James, Fred, Lily, and Emily were all currently in the care of Ron and Hermione and perfectly safe. That was a relief, if this was all actually true. She looked at the other stories to see that the new bill Hermione had proposed which was designed to lighten restrictions on werewolves, goblins, and centaurs had been pushed back because of the upheaval the Ministry was in. She also saw a story that Ireland had won their game and, as such, would be playing Russia in the World Cup which would be held in France this year. As for the regional games, the Chudley Canons had beaten the Tutshill Tornadoes by a hair's breadth— it was almost a repeat of the 1994 World Cup.

You might think it was weird that she would check these things, but there was a valid reason. This was America, so a regional game in the UK wouldn't have been advertised here. As for the World Cup, America was out of the running after their second game so the details might have been a little off had someone from America tried to fake an issue of the Daily Prophet. They could fact check, but little facts like who was playing who and who was more likely to win didn't seem worth their time to research. Most forgers usually ignored things like that.

But these facts were pretty spot on; Ireland was an overwhelming favorite against Australia and the Chudley Canons had just gotten too arrogant with their latest winning streak that a good team like the Tutshill Tornadoes stood a fair chance at winning.

Harry pushed a little magic into the paper and commanded it silently to reveal its secrets. The paper didn't change meaning it didn't have some illusory charm cast upon it that would cause her to see what she wanted/expected to see.

So George was safely in the care of St. Mungo's and her children were in the care of her best friends. That only left one question: "Why is George unconscious?" She looked up at the devil, eyes suspicious.

He held up his hands and shrugged innocently. "I just used a little grace to make sure he wouldn't wake up immediately. His body did need some time to recover; demon possession isn't very healthy after all."

"But he's okay?" she asked uneasily.

"Yes, he's perfectly healthy now. You're welcome."

"The only reason he was in that situation to begin with is because of you!" She stood up and pointed her finger accusatorially at his chest. "Don't think this changes anything." She spun quickly on heel and walked over to stare at the window. Harry wished she had something to do to dismiss him better, but there wasn't anything to do in the room except stare at the window. It wasn't until she heard the door creak open that she whispered, "But thanks."

There was a pause and then, "Of course, Adriel. I didn't intend to cause you pain, you know." And then she heard the door close and him walk away.

Harry quietly stared out the window, lost in thought. She wondered what her family was doing…

~ St. Mungo's ~

The entirety of the Weasley clan was waiting in the hallway around George's room. Neville and Luna had agreed to take the children that were too small to be there, so Hugo, Rose, Lily, and Emily were absent. Molly and Arthur were the only ones in the room, waiting on their son to wake up. Everyone was quiet and morose, worrying over Harry and George, hoping everything would turn out all right.

None of them noticed the man in the trench coat standing in the corner, watching them. But there was a good reason for that. You see, witches and wizards are perfectly capable of seeing things on the astral plane, but they can only see so far. Just how far varies from one to another which is why some witches and wizards are incapable of seeing the faces of demons and angel while others can see such things quite clearly. It was also why some witches and wizards could see things like Reapers while others were oblivious to their presence.

But that's a story for another time. The point is, it was a simple matter for an angel to vanish from the sight of even witches and wizards, though Castiel did uneasily note that one of the witches would glance over at him curiously but then look away.

The reason the trench coat wearing angel had elected to come to the hospital was because he wished to speak with the man that had been abducted, George Weasley. He had intended to take advantage of a time when no one was in the room to awaken the man and ask him a few things. Unfortunately that wouldn't work for two reasons: one, he was _never_ alone and two, his unconscious state was caused by a large amount of grace being present in his body. That wasn't something Castiel could really fix.

So, with a sigh, the angel vanished, reappearing in the hotel room the Winchesters were currently staying at. "Cas!" Dean yelped, glaring at him. "Don't _do_ that!"

"Oh, hey Cas," Sam greeted as he walked out of the bathroom. "Did you learn anything?"

"No, I was unable to get near the wizard. Besides, his current state was caused by grace and I am incapable of fixing it."

"So Lucifer has her?" Dean asked, looking pissed at the idea.

"I am afraid so."

"But she might not be Lost Child right?"

"If she were not, that man would not have been returned. Nor would he be alive."

"Wait, you said everyone is at the hospital, right? So no one's at the house."

"So?" Sam asked. "What are you going to do, Dean? Break into their house to find out what we already know?"

"No, we break into their house to find out more about this Harry woman. If we figure out what she's like then maybe we'll be able to convince her not to join Lucifer. I mean, come on, the way these guys talk about her, she's this great hero or something."

"She is," Castiel answered calmly. "Harriet Lily Weasley, formerly Potter, saved the Wizarding World by killing a very powerful dark wizard named Tom Riddle when she was 17 thus ending a war that was coming close to a scale that Lucifer himself would be proud of." Dean lifted his eyebrows.

"Riddle is like the wizarding equivalent of Adolf Hitler," Sam told his brother. "Of course, he's not actually known as Tom Riddle, but Lord Voldemort. People were so scared of him— are _still_ so scared of him— that there are still a large number of witches and wizards won't even say hi name. He was a pretty nasty dude."

"Really? Not even his name?" the elder asked. He blew out a breath. "That must have been one badass battle."

"Yeah, you should read the books they have on it. This woman is a major part of history. Apparently she managed to survive the 'killing curse' when she was only a year old and, to this day, is the only person that's even done it. The dark wizard was destroyed then, or so they thought, and was out of history until she was 14. There's a book she wrote herself on the war that I really want to read, but haven't managed to find…" Sam trailed off, thinking about it. Then he shrugged. "Anyway, after the war she became an Auror; they're like wizarding Hunters but they get paid to do it… Maybe more like wizarding police officers, considering they're supernatural themselves."

"I don't get it. If this girl's such a big hero, why would she join the devil?"

"She isn't simply Harriet Weasley, Dean," Castiel told him. "She's also the Lost Child. She was very close to Lucifer when she was in heaven and, while she may not remember it now, she will feel a certain level of trust, camaraderie, and admiration for him that has leaked through the wall in her mind. And once she regains her memories, and it is only a matter of time until she does, she will likely believe that Lucifer has saved her and wish to remain with him."

"You don't know that," Sam argued. "Maybe the morals and feelings she's developed as a human will change how she feels about Lucifer."

"Look, the way I see it, we can stand around here all day talking about what may or may not be true, or we can go break into her house and find out for sure," Dean cut in. "_I'm_ going to go break in, anyone coming with me?"

An hour later found the trio driving toward the unoccupied country house that belonged to the Weasley family. "Stop!" Castiel shouted suddenly causing the driver to slam on his breaks.

"What the hell, Cas?"

"There are wards around the house," the angel announced. "If we go any farther, we risk death."

"Great, what the hell are we supposed to do now?"

"Uh, guys?" Sam started. "We might have a problem." He pointed. The other two looked in that direction to see a pair of men in black clothes striding toward them, closing the distance quickly.

Dean did the only thing he could think to do: shifted into reverse and got the hell out of there. Once they had a few miles between them and the house, he spoke, "So breaking in was a bust. What's Plan B?"

"We don't have one."

"Great."


	5. Nightmares

**A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update! I had 90% of the chapter written but I had to update ASL Pirates because I had promised myself I'd do it. Then I got a new computer and, before I could transfer my files, I discovered Bleach and am now addicted. I've spent the last few weeks (has it been a month already?) reading all 574 chapters and watching the first 115 episodes of the anime as well as playing with a few ideas for a fanfic that may/may not be published…**

**Again, sorry. But I've finished the chapter now and here it is! I hope you like it!**

* * *

"_I believe in everything until it's disproved… Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?" –John Lennon _

The Lost Child

Nightmares

It had started off as a perfectly normal nightmare. It wasn't one she'd had in years, but it had been pretty recurring in her childhood.

_She was running from Dudley. It seemed like that was what she'd always been doing when she was at the Dursleys' so it was hard to say exactly when this was. Terror was gripping at her chest while exhaustion made her stumble. She looked over her shoulder to see her cousin and his little gang were getting closer. In her time looking back, she failed to see the hole in front of her. Her foot went down and she tumbled forward, spraining her ankle. She looked up at her cousin in horror only for_ something _to happen. That 'something' was magic. She vanished, leaving the gang looking confused._

And then it got weird.

_Rather than appearing on the roof of the school like she had expected, she was in a tree, really high up. Her arms were wrapped tightly around the trunk but they didn't look like_ her _hands. They were smaller with more callouses and covered in dirt so thick it almost looked like her hands_ _were black. She was trembling as she looked down, an angry mob of people were running toward her whilst carrying the clichéd torches and pitchforks. _

"_There she is! The witch!" A terrified shriek escaped her lips as the mob gathered around the base of the tree. "Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" They shouted, bringing the torches toward the tree trunk to light it on fire. She screamed in fear as the fire grew closer and closer, body trembling. The pull of magic came and thunder sounded. Rain began to pour fast and hard, putting the fire out. The tree couldn't hold anymore though and began to fall down. Reality began to swim around her and suddenly she wasn't the same any more._

_Now she was an adult, hiding in a cloak as she made her way down a cobblestone path in a large, bustling city. "WITCH!" came a shout from behind her. She turned quickly to see a group of knights chasing a boy in his early teens. They were a long ways behind him, but would catch him before he reached the end of the street. She ducked into the alley behind her and waited until he passed before grabbing him and jerking him after her. She clapped a hand over his mouth and motioned for him to stay quiet before pulling him along through the streets. She bought him down into the sewage system, directing him to the end of it. _

"_Who are you?" he whispered._

_She didn't answer, instead turned to look at him. The only thing she could see reflected in his eyes from within the cowl was disconcerting. It was a pair of eyes, blue as the ocean and full of loving kindness. But they should be green, her eyes were _green_. So why were they blue in the reflection? "Travel north, child. Keep going for as far as you can. Friends will find you and take you to a safe place. Don't use magic until they arrive."_

"_But—"_

"_Don't bother to deny it child, and remember," she lifted her hand which held a slender, pale wand. She flicked her wrist at the bars holding them in which promptly exploded, "never tickle a sleeping dragon." With that, she turned on heel and vanished with a crack._

_When she reappeared again, she was an old woman sitting in a rocking chair out on a porch. A man came walking up the road, heading straight toward her. The soft creak was the only thing that could be heard until he came to a stop in front of her. "What do you need this time, Mr. Campbell?"_

"_You know why I'm here, ma'am." He fidgeted uncomfortably, his hand going to his hip where a sword rested. "You went too far this time."_

"_Oh, dearie, if you knew half the things he did, you wouldn't be so upset with me." She smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Well let's get this over with."_

"_You're not going to fight it?"_

"_Mr. Campbell, a wise man like you would know that death is but another adventure that this old body can weather."_

"_You always were an odd one, Ms. Gryffindor."_

"_It comes from my father, dearie. Now are you waiting for me to die of natural causes?"_

"_Perhaps."_

_She laughed, rocking gently in her chair. "I hold no ill will, dearie. I know you have your code of honor as I have mine. You are doing what's right by your family, Mr. Campbell, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. After all, family is the most important thing."_

"_Are you going to keep quoting wisdom at me, ma'am?" He took a few steps forward, not stopping until he was directly in front of the lady and her rocker. The creaking of the chair continued unhindered._

"_An old woman needs to leave something behind in her last hours, Mr. Campbell."_

"_For what it's worth, I'm sorry." He drew his sword._

"_I know, dearie," she murmured, still smiling even as he ran his sword through her heart. He backed away, carrying his sword with him as the rocker continued rocking for a few more seconds before it came to a stop. Slowly, as the man walked away, everything faded to black._

"_Harry," the name was whispered in her ear. She blinked her eyes opened, frowning disconcertingly up at her beloved husband. He draped an arm around her, pulling her close. _

_She gave him a smile and placed a hand on his cheek. "What's wrong?"_

_He blinked and suddenly his eyes were solid black and his smile turned deadly. "A little bit of everything," he answered tauntingly. She jerked away, but his grip was iron. Chains snaked around her body, holding her down so she couldn't move. _

She jerked and screamed until she sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat. She ran a hand through her hair and brought her knees up to her chest. What were those dreams about? Who were those people? Why had her eyes been blue? Why had the man called her 'Mrs. Gryffindor'? Who the hell was Campbell? Why had he killed 'her'?

What the hell was wrong with her? It was just a few bad dreams, why was she making such a big deal out of it?

_Because it _is_ a big deal_, that God-damned voice in the back of her head whispered.

She threw the blankets aside and stood up to pace. Her nose wrinkled as she did; she smelled horrible, where was a shower when she needed one? With a heavy sigh, she ran a hand through her hair again. She was going stir crazy in here, especially when she didn't have anything to occupy her time. She was driving herself mad worrying about her family and friends, worrying about the department and England itself, worrying about what Lucifer being out of Hell could mean, worrying about herself going mental.

She needed something to keep her mind busy that didn't involve worrying. She came to a stop in front of the door to her room. Harry would much prefer it if she had her wand for this, but beggars can't be choosers and she really did need to know what was going on…

Nodding to herself, she strode to the door and pulled it open a crack, peeking through to see if the hall was clear. She pulled the door open a little further to check both ways, then stepped out when she saw the coast was clear. She pulled the door closed silently behind her and walked slowly down the hall, checking the doors she passed. It seemed the hallway was unused.

A devil's trap at the end of the hall revealed why. She frowned at it as it revealed she had been wasting her time for the last several minutes. With a huff, she strode over the symbol and into the room. Her appearance garnered some attention, but no one came anywhere near her. They would avert their eyes, almost like they were afraid of her. Why?

She walked farther into the room and looked around as the demons continued to avoid her. When one of them walked within the invisible boundaries everyone else honored, she called out to him. "Hey, what—" the demon she had tried to question doubled his pace and hastened away.

What the hell? Sure, Harry had defeated Voldemort and led a successful career as an Auror, but no one had been so actively afraid of her. Not the Death Eaters she hunted down after the war, not werewolves causing trouble, not vampires, not the other up-and-coming dark wizards. So why were these demons, who were far stronger than any of them, so frightened of her? Maybe it had something to do with Lucifer thinking she was his sister…

Since when was she thinking of him as 'Lucifer'?

"Adriel," the tone was scolding, as if she was a child caught doing something wrong. She spun around to look at the fallen angel who was standing there with his arms crossed. He looked almost disappointed. "Why aren't you in your room?"

She crossed her arms in stubborn defiance. "I got tired of sitting on my hands."

His lips twisted into a smirk. "You always were impatient," he informed her. "Still, you need to stay in your room for now."

"No," she answered stubbornly. "I have no intention of going back to that room where I have nothing to do but drive myself crazy."

"You will go."

"No, I will not."

The smirk turned into a frown and Lucifer lifted his hand up to snap his fingers. Suddenly, Harry was in that room again. It was disconcerting. They hadn't apparated, that much she knew, but she had never heard of any other teleportation method. Demons did apparate, right?

Apparently angels didn't. She wondered what they called this mode of teleportation; maybe she could learn it? It was certainly more comfortable, not to mention convenient, than apparating everywhere.

Rather than letting her curiosity show, Harry scowled at the man. "If you were bored, you should have said something," Lucifer informed her sternly. He snapped his fingers and a bookcase appeared on the wall next to the door. "There, I'm sure you can find some entertainment in these books."

Blinking, the Auror turned around and looked over its contents, finding that it held the same books, in the same order, as the bookshelf in her office. _Is this my bookshelf?_ She wondered curiously with a frown.

"If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask. Just call my name and I can be here in a moment's notice," he informed her calmly. "I will be back soon; I've found a lead on your grace that I intend to follow myself."

"Grace?" she asked, frowning at him.

"Hadn't I told you?" he asked, looking mildly bemused. Harry shook her head. "Grace is the power of angels, similar to the magic witches and wizards hold though far stronger and far more versatile. Your grace was stolen from you when some of our brothers and sisters threw you out of heaven in a jealous fit. Hopefully you will regain your lost memories once I return it to you."

_Cast me out of heaven?_ She wondered as Lucifer vanished. _Why would they do that? Provided I actually was an angel, which I'm not. Jealous fit… why would an angel be jealous of me? ... Oh stop wondering about this, Harry! _She scolded herself. _Lucifer is off his rocker; all this is some hallucination of his that for some reason is fixated on me. None of this is real._

So why was that infuriating little voice telling her it _was_ real?


End file.
